Page 74 of The Wexley Inn
“Boss?” Wade’s voice cut through his paralysis. “You want us to keep working on the veranda trim, or…?”
Thomas looked at his friend. “Oh yeah, yes, the trim, that’s right. Make sure the miters are tight. We don’t want any gaps showing when the paint goes on.”
Wade nodded slowly, looking concerned. “You okay, man? You look like you haven’t slept.”
“I’m fine. Just keep... keep working.”
After Wade left, Thomas pulled out his phone and stared at Isabella’s last text. So did you. I’m sorry. He typed and deleted a dozen responses. Can we talk? No, it was too soon. I love you. Too little, too late. Please don’t leave. Too selfish. Finally, he just put his phone away and forced himself to focus on his work. The inn opening was nineteen days away - nineteen days to finish a project that felt poisoned now, nineteen days to figure out if there was any way to fix what he had broken.
Emma showed up at Isabella’s cottage at noon, letting herself in when Isabella didn’t answer the door.
“Go away,” Isabella said from the couch, still in her pajamas, surrounded by a bunch of wadded-up tissues, like some heartbroken girl in a bad 80s movie.
“Not a chance.” Emma sat down in the armchair across from her. “Look, I’m the one who wouldn’t stop calling during this whole mess. The least you can do is let me make sure you’re not drowning in it alone.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look like hell.”
Isabella laughed. “Thanks. That helps.”
Emma was quiet for a moment. “For what it’s worth, I’m furious with my dad. What he did - not telling you about the loan guarantee, about the letter to the county - that was totally wrong. You have every right to be angry.”
“But—”
“But nothing. There’s no but. He was wrong. Although I will say, and this isn’t an excuse, but my dad’s been managing crises alone for so long, he forgot how to ask for help or how to give help without taking over completely.”
Isabella pulled a fresh tissue from the box. “He told me I’m too weak to handle island politics, that he was compensating for my weaknesses.”
Emma winced. “Ouch. Yeah, that’s… that’s not good. That’s pretty bad.”
“And I told him that he controls everybody because he’s too afraid to feel helpless.” Isabella’s voice broke. “I told him about the Paris job interview, which I’ve been keeping secret for two weeks.”
“The what now?”
Isabella explained about Rousseau International’s offer, about the Thursday meeting she still had scheduled, and about how she’d used it as ammunition to hurt Thomas the same way he’d hurt her.
Emma was quiet. “Do you want the Paris job?”
“No.” The answer came immediately, with certainty Isabella hadn’t expected. “I want the inn. I want this community. I want your dad. It doesn’t matter what I want. We destroyed each other yesterday, and it’s just too broken to fix.”
“Oh, that’s crap.” Emma’s tone was sharp. “You two destroyed each other because you’re both terrified. He’s terrified of losing you again, so he tried to control the outcome, and you were terrified of trusting him, so you created an exit strategy. Neither of you was really being honest about what you needed or what you were afraid of.”
“So what? We talk about our feelings, and everything’s going to be magically better?”
“No. You talk about your feelings, and then you do the actual hard work of changing how you respond to things. Look, I don’t know if you two can fix this. Maybe it is too broken, but if you’re going to walk away, at least walk away knowing that you tried everything. Don’t leave because you’re scared. Leave because it genuinely doesn’t work.”
After Emma left, Isabella sat in her cottage for a long time in silence. Finally, she picked up her phone and sent three text messages.
To Claire Rousseau’s assistant: I need to cancel Thursday’s meeting. I’ve decided not to pursue the position. Thank you for the opportunity.
To Maggie: Can we talk? I need advice.
To Thomas, she typed and deleted at least a dozen messages before finally settling on: We should talk, but not yet. I need time to think.
His response came immediately. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.
Thomas arrived at the inn before dawn, needing some quiet and physical work to try to calm the chaos in his mind. He’d spent the night replaying the fight and then hearing Isabella’s accusations echo in the darkness. You manage, control, and decide for everyone else because you’re so terrified of being helpless.
